Tapestry
by Jysella
Summary: third chapter up as the team nears thirteen they begin to fall apart and the childlike facade of the KND disintigrates when cree comes foreward with the true reason for the non-existance of former KND
1. Before its begun

Jysella: here we go again, anyway- I read somewhere that the number of depressed kuki fics was beginning to annoy people  
  
Audience of delusions: really?  
  
Jysella: yeah and since I really flooded the section with those ( well three, but still) I felt kinda bad  
  
Audience of delusions: really?  
  
Jysella: nope, I kinda went "oops" and then decided to write more  
  
Audience of delusions: so, you wrote this?  
  
Jysella: pretty much- oh and before I forget I have an interesting idea for a fic but it involves using the actual authors from the section so if you could just e-mail me if you're interested that would be very much appreciated  
  
Audience of delusions: her email is hyayuy18@aol.com- but aside from that, the fic?  
  
Jysella: oh yeah- I own none of the characters and yada, yada, yada, by now you know the drill  
  
Audience of delusions: so don't sue  
  
Before its begun  
  
They trudged home from the day's disappointments, an unruly bleeding mob. Their ten feet pounded the pavement, an awkward echo emanating from each begrudged contact with the streets bleeding asphalt. It had been a hard day, a long day and one that had met few victories. It had begun as hot as the stereotyped Eden of tormented souls and ended with the same blaring heat offered by a heat wave amidst a roaring bushfire in Death Valley. The very street bucked beneath their feet, like so much gum, to avoid the added burden of a few pounds. And, as though the heat weren't consuming enough on their trek through Hades, they the added enjoyment of knowing they had lost. Yes, they had lost nearly everything that their meager childhoods had been spent fighting for, and the ice cream man had gotten away.  
  
Leading the party of five stormed a bruised child, his pale skin decorated with a variety a cuts and blossoming color which continued through his nonexistent hairline. Behind him stepped a distraught boy in sweltering blue and brown. The flight cap, that always graced his brow, was drenched in glistening sweat and other, heavier, liquids. His pale blue shirt was torn at the sleeve, revealing one battered arm, twisted at an angle humanly impossible. Beside him walked a young girl whose black hair seemed chopped at a strange angle, the remnants of a braid lay haphazardly too one side of her down turned head whilst the other was torn free. She was wearing a blue shirt torn at the waste, and carrying the rest of her braid as well as a battered piece of red fabric in her hands. As she walked she murmured unintelligible statements that no one responded to. In fact, the first three members of the party each seemed lost in their own thoughts, noticing very little of the blistering world around them.  
  
At a pace much further behind any of the rest of the team limped two very beaten children, leaning on one another in a failing attempt at moving. The taller of the two, and worse for the wear, was a young blonde boy. He had abrasions running down either cheek, and trickling from his mouth and nose. His hair was matted with clumps of dried brown liquid. The gashes continued down his bare arms and chest, growing with intensity and deepness the lower they became. Were hands should have been were masses of bloody pulp held together with bands of bale skin, like white ribbons in a blizzard of red. Each step forced a flicker of pain across his bright green eyes, which were dulled from blood loss. Leaning against him, a young Asian girl with silent tears dripping down her face inched her way down the street. Her shoulders were draped in an oversized orange hoodie but even with its weight she shivered in the heat. Wounds crying red ran the course of her arms and stick like legs disrupted only by patches of fabric. Her sneakers lay in tatters around raw feet. Black charcoal lines coursed through the drenching tears that fell easily from her shocked eyes. Her hair hung in a limp train down her back, the only one she would ever live to wear. One of her feet was turned outwards, a direction opposite that the other foot, but the gradual progress down the street produced no change in her state.  
  
"I-Never-Knew-You-Could-Hurt-So-Much" she sobbed as they moved towards the now looming tree fort. Its shadow cast a bastion of coolness from the heat that threatened to invade their very bodies, to cook their minds.  
  
"I know sheila" the blonde responded, unable to offer any relief through his own difficulties. Each of his breaths was labored, and a gasping sound broke free after he spoke. He had obviously broken a rib at the very least, and the hospital was not an option.  
  
" How much further" she asked a few moments later, when his hand had reached the icy metal doorknob of the forts lower levels. Pained green eyes immediately iced with concern; his own problems forgotten.  
  
"What do you mean, how much further?" The worry failed to reach his voice through the overwhelming pain that wracked his body, but it was perhaps better that it didn't.  
  
"It got so dark just a minute ago" the girl complained moving, by instinct, to sit on the stoop below the door. A few moments later, through shooting pain, the realization of where they were dawned on her. " Oh" she exclaimed nearly joyously, though more important issues drowned her excitement out.  
  
" Come on, I'll- I need help up the stairs" the boy said, avoiding topics soon to be discovered.  
  
" Every time Wally, every time" she responded reaching out for his arm, " if only it weren't so dark, you can see the door right?"  
  
"Um, I think so" he responded opening the door into a bright light, his eyes watered from the sudden transition and his body screamed at the cool air that assaulted him. Every cut and bruise seemed to reopen in the new stimulus. The girl beside him gasped at a similar reaction. The sudden movement at his left caused a paining head to grow fuzzy. Every item in the carefully crafted room slid out of focus, sofas suddenly moved with alarming speed towards him.  
  
"Wally?" the girl asked as her teammate fell beside her. She received no response.  
  
"Wally?" she screamed in a heightened panic. Again she received no response. Tears of pain quickly changed to tears of fear as she sat helplessly on the floor, little light filtering through her eyes, and awaited assistance she feared wouldn't come. The two of them had always been the others last hope. He had been there for her as long as she could remember, waiting to pick up the pieces from any problem she caused. And for him she had always helped, hiding numerous bottles of his anti- inflammatory, painkillers and antidepressants in her room for fear one of Numbuh ones random sweeps would find them. After all they all knew she had antidepressants and what kid actually the labels of drugs. No one had always been there for the other and now she was scared. Once again she called his name while shaking what she though were his shoulders.  
  
" Why are you shaking my hand Numbuh three?" he weekly responded after several moments. The girl smiled sadly.  
  
"No reason, I thought you had checked out on me there" she smiled.  
  
"What and let you have my manga? Never!" He rose, painstakingly to his feet, stopping to allow dizziness to pass in several tiny movements. It was a full ten minutes before he was fully standing. Using him as a guidepost Numbuh three slowly rose and the two limped up the main staircase cursing the elevators unfortunate accident the day before.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
After the long trek up the stairs and the hallway they reached a large door bearing the number three in large print. They eagerly advanced within and collapsed upon the various plush toys it contained. The softness of their brightly colored fur bit in to the various injuries of the children, preventing the sleep both desperately needed. Numbuh three sat up suddenly, her thin body encased in the large purple fluff of a teddy bear, the unfortunate by product of a dying accident.  
  
" We need fluids" she started, her voice thick with accumulating pain. Numbuh four looked up from his pillow, an orange tabby that seemed another tragedy of the aforementioned accident, but his movements didn't match his minds calculations. As a result he tumbled from the large, discolored beast.  
  
" We- lost-blood," she offered, the fragmented explanation the best she could put fourth. Stumbling she crossed her room and reached into an icebox. From within the cool confines she drew a bottle of orange juice and a poorly battered first aid kit, as well as a fistful of colorful tablets. Placing the orange juice and tablets gently on her bed, she kneeled in front of the battered boy and set to work cleaning his damaged body. Delicate care was applied to each of his cuts while he winced with her every movement. By the end he was wrapped in gauze and an assortment of brightly colored bandages. Shortly thereafter he repeated the process on the girl across from him, tenderly cleaning her face and cuts of all remnants of her destroyed fighting machine.  
  
"Poor bunny" she moaned as he drew small shrapnel from a few of her deeper cuts.  
  
Once both children resembled hippie-mummies they attacked the tablets laying on her bed. Splitting the veritable feast of pills between the two. Anti-inflammatory, painkillers, the prescribed antidepressants; each swallowed their allotted amount as recommended by the pill bottle labels and no more before drifting into deep, poorly timed, sleep.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Morning found the two children kneeling in the bathroom, the gaunt Asian brushing back stands of sweat ridden blonde hair while the boy prayed to the porcelain goddess; offering tribute in the only accepted method. Tears never touched his face as he continued to heave a brown, coffee ground-like substance, into the bowls stark cleanness. The girl, for her part, made soft soothing noises as each wave of nausea wracked his body. Her own face was flushed with fever, body trembling with the effort of supporting her weight.  
  
"Four, we need help" she said lightly, between his pain.  
  
"But, the medicine" he feebly responded, turning to face the bowl once more. The raven-haired girl patiently waited through the attack.  
  
"Isn't working any more" she replied. They couldn't do it any more, they needed help other then what the doctors threw at them when they explained their training schedules, other than what shrinks prescribed when teachers sent them in, complaining of bruises and evenly spaced cuts. They needed someone to take more then a glance at the two of them and think they knew all about their so-called simple lives. Most of all they needed the people who had so long been masquerading as friends to begin acting as they were again, instead of ignoring their existence.  
  
"Whatever happened to being children" he asked once the nausea had passed. They continued to sit on the fluffy monstrosities of the girls room, icing shooting pains and carefully sipping acidic orange juice through cuts spanning the length of their mouths. She looked up at him sadly, orange juice dropping from a shaking cup.  
  
"I don't know, four, I just don't know"  
  
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
The emergency room was busy when the two of them were rushed in one year later. Their friends worriedly walked steps behind, watching with veiled eyes as the doctors pounded their chests and drew blood. The pill bottles they had found next to them hadn't been full, but then they were only missing pills equivalent to the number of days they had been in three's possession. The doctors screamed at each other, but no one truly listened. They watched as needles were shoved into the pairs arms, and heard monitors beep without registering the true danger. In fact they never understood what had happened, how their friends could have gone from healthy elite fighters, to collapsing on the floor of their forts after a mission in a manner of seconds. She had collapsed first and, while ambulance rounded the corner he had fallen as well murmuring an unintelligible finally as he did. They didn't understand what he meant by that, what possible could have possessed the soon to turn thirteen year old to mention something like that as he fell. And, as the monitors ceased beeping and sheets covered the duo's battered bodies they realized they never would. It was over, and they didn't know it had even begun.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Jysella: eh, well that was fun- not what I was going for but fun  
  
Audience of delusions: yeah, of course  
  
Jysella: jerks, anyway about that thing e-mail me, I'm serious I'll explain more later but if your at all intrigued e-mail me, please! Just be sure to title the email something I'd recognize  
  
Audience of delusions: yeah, any way read and review 


	2. loose threads

Jysella: well the e-mail's are in and I received a grand total of- zero  
  
Audience of delusions: you expected more?  
  
Jysella: actually yes, yes I did. But, oh well  
  
Audience of delusions: so you wrote more  
  
Jysella: well, Jubilee (who gets pixi-stix for being the first reviewer) asked for more  
  
Audience of delusions: and you like the excuse enough to finish this fic and ignore nameless?  
  
Jysella: that pretty much sums it up-  
  
Audience of delusions: right, none of these characters are owned in any way at all by Jysella  
  
Jysella: so there is really no need to sue me, right network execs?  
  
Network execs: right- now will you untie us?  
  
Jysella: no, enjoy the fic  
  
Loose threads  
  
It didn't rain the day they were buried, though the three solemn friends they left behind wished it had. No, it didn't rain, instead a warm golden sun filtered in through the sparse green willow tree overhanging the grave- playing over the peaceful faces of the children. Their bruises had been hidden well by the expert hands of the funeral parlor, their skin shone with luster it had lacked for years. They didn't seem the children they had known. Before their grave the pastor droned on, as he had at the wake before, in his dry tone, scathing the surface of any skin it touched. Not a dry face surrounded the double casket as they peered one final time at the twin sacrifice, imprinting a last vision of their friends forever on their eyelids.  
  
The pair was beautiful in death as in life. Her pale skin had been accentuated with thin lines of blush, her lips lined with a dark liner so they floated, and her eyes closed. The beautiful raven hair she had taken pains to care for had been allowed to remain loose and flowing, despite traditional techniques, it covered some of the silky green kimono that caressed her body, touching on the creeping bouquet of babies breath, buttercup and chrysanthemum embroidered on its surface. The kimonos silent folds covered her feet and one of her delicate hands, obscuring the clubbed nature of her extremities. Her entire body lay separate from the boy beside her, kept on it's on side as though by an invisible border excepting one hand which, with his, was wrapped around a solitary fern stem- clutching one another in support as they had in life.  
  
The boy was clothed in a plain black suit, with a white under shirt. The only memory of clothing choice, the orange tie worn loosely about his neck. As with the girl expert hands had accented his slightly rugged features. The vague beginnings of a square jaw, the soft fuzz lining his cheek, the innocent recesses of a cherubic face's death- all lined with a devouring pink blush drawing them to the eye. His hair as well, blonde as the day he had joined his team, remained pushed to the side in a position foreign to his face- revealing eyes that were forever shut. Unlike his maiden bride, however, his hands were left free for the world to see, his clubbed blue cast fingers out of place against a lively death, a visible sign of his life's plight.  
  
The pastor droned further, scratching tones tearing at the face of the three friends that outlived the pair. The three friends who, squeezing one another's hands like a last line of support, sat staring mutely ahead, dealing with their own private turmoil's. Directly before their second row seating sat the two mourning families, separate from one another as the children in the grave.  
  
"As we lower young Kukoko and Wallabe we remember not the youths that were taken from beyond our grip but the deeds that survive them." The pastor called, the talons of his voice finally withdrawing from his audience. The entirety of the party remained seated until the two families had stood and filed down the isle. The rest soon followed, milling about the graveyard in an attempt to offer final sympathies.  
  
The two families stood together near their children's joint grave, siding against one another for support. A tall blonde woman, obvious parent of the vicious aussie, leaned against her husband and sobbed silently while the willowy man stood awkwardly against her sobs. A petite asian woman, the only parent Kuki had, stood mere feet apart from the now childless couple closing her red rimmed eyes against the pain of loss and a hangover. Before her two young children stood. One with long black hair, like her older sisters, in pigtails with dual colored ribbons; orange and green. Her pale ivory skin had tear marks running down her cheeks but she stood her ground.  
  
Stolidly standing before the broken families in her small black kimono taking the sympathy of strangers that the adults in her life couldn't handle while keeping a careful eye on the second girl. She couldn't have been more than seven. Beside her a young child stood solemnly, though she understood nothing of the proceedings about her. Like her two older sisters she had a pale ivory skin and slim features however her flaxen hair and light eyes gave way to features that didn't seem at all part of the family lineage. The younger girl, in a similar black kimono, never moved from her spot and never spoke or complained of boredom as most children do, as most three year olds do.  
  
A short distance away from the families stood the trio of remaining KND agents and the who had been their at the last moments. Despite the personal sentiments of the moment they were locked in an intense conversation centering around one of the children on the hill.  
  
"Numbuh one look at her" a young African American, one of the aforementioned trio, had said pointing towards the older sister " is it fair? Can we really ask her to do this? I mean, she can't take her sisters place!"  
  
"No" a bald boy had responded sadly, lifting darkly tinted glasses from his pocket and placing them on her face " she can't take her sisters place, but they are direct orders from HQ"  
  
"So that's it Numbuh one? That's all it is? We just waltz up say 'sorry about your sister's death and oh, by the by, want to join the organization your sister was part of?' That's all we do? Well sorry baby Numbuh five can't hang that way" the girl responded, containing her rage in escalating whispers.  
  
"She's right you know, Numbuh one," the third party, a thinning boy with brown hair and a blue dress shirt had said. Between his hands he held a leather cap, crushed to an unintelligible blob through his nervous fiddling. The other two glared at him, annoyed at his interference in their fight, but they, nonetheless, could not ignore the third member of their recently reduced team.  
  
"I'm not saying we can't ask her. -It seems a shame to leave the tree house so empty- all I'm saying is do we have to ask her today?" she gestured up at the hill, catching the attentions of a stoic seven year old who was bravely facing pity driven adults- and warding off their charity. With interest she watched the action on the bottom of the hill, recognizing the embroiled trio to be the remainder of her sibling's 'team'.  
  
"Numbuh five I know, as well as you do, that it's wrong to ask her. Especially today. But this is a direct order. We must ask today. As soon as possible." The bald responded, glancing himself uneasily at the top of the hill.  
  
" There's no way of getting around the order" the brown haired boy asked sheepishly, adding a third glance to the accumulating collection. The bald agent merely shook his head.  
  
"No, Numbuh two, there is no way out"  
  
"But she's too young, doesn't the code book specify an eight year requirement for joining?" Numbuh five asked, grasping, in desperation, at the proverbial straws. At the top of the hill the seven year old's interest grew and she informed her pained mother that she would return in a few moments. ' I just need some alone time' she called, fleeing down the hill.  
  
"Numbuh five they write the code, they can break it" Numbuh two replied before Numbuh one could. In turn their leader nodded sadly.  
  
"It's agreed then, we ask Moshi today"  
  
"Ask me what?" the seven year old in the simple Kimono asked from behind the trio. The three of them turned embarrassedly and glanced at each other before Numbuh five stepped foreword to talk. She bent over and placed her hands on her knees in order to be eye level with the younger girl and spoke in a very slow, simple, voice.  
  
"Moshi do you remember when you were very little and your sister brought you to space with us?" the younger girl nodded and Numbuh five continued,  
  
"Well she, Wally, and all of us were part of a- a- a club called the kids next door. Do you understand so far?" again the smaller girl nodded  
  
"Well because Kuki- Kukoko- is-ah"  
  
"Dead" Moshi filled in blatantly.  
  
" Because Kuki is dead we can invite you to join and come live with us in the tree house, okay?" The younger child though about this and, until a wavering voice screaming 'moshiko' carried on the wind, the world seemed hung on her studious reverie.  
  
"You guys fight adults?" she asked simply, ignoring the pleading figures at the hills top. Numbuh one nodded. "And I can hurt whoever did this to my sister and Onii-kun?"  
  
"Onii-kun?" Numbuh two asked, puzzled.  
  
"Wally" she answered as Numbuh five spoke.  
  
"Moshi, you know Wally and Kuki did this to themselves, after so many years on the medications they couldn't, well their bodies gave up"  
  
"No," the child responded shaking with rage, " my sister and Onii would never do that to me, to us. They would never leave Amane and me alone with mom and uncle for more than a few days, they would never leave us like this forever on purpose. Not if they could stop it!"  
  
"What do you mean they" Numbuh one asked in unison with Numbuh fives " mom and uncle?" question. For her part Moshi looked at them and smiled sadly.  
  
" You don't know anything about them, do you?" she screamed at them harshly, shaking her head with a mixture of shock and rage. "Well do you want to now? Are you curious? Well here's the truth want it or not, We, my sister and I, and Kuki when she was alive, live in Wally's house" she sighed lightly and looked down briefly " Yes, we live in Wally's house and life there isn't exactly a barrel of rainbow monkeys, So I'm in, if I can bring Amane" the three looked at one another, ashamed at how little they knew about their friends, and sighed.  
  
"Maybe" Numbuh one responded as Wally's dad came down the hill "maybe"  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
The tall blonde roughly grabbled the young girl by her elbow and muttered a few harsh words to the girl.  
  
"No uncle" she responded bitterly " I did not mean to wonder off and worry mother, I know she is ill." The man glared at her but she refused to lower her eyes. " I was only talking to Kuki and Wally's friends I did not realize Amane would wander from mother's sight"  
  
"She didn't" the man responded gruffly, "she stayed like a good girl, unlike her sister"  
  
" I am sorry uncle" the girl said again as the man jerked her towards the car. It was a rough movement, which jarred her entire body, but she didn't cry as he pulled her off. Instead she rushed to keep up with the taller man, nearly jogging to the car in the effort.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*  
  
Jysella: so that is it for the second chapter, I meant to finish the third chapter but then I realized something, school. But it is half done  
  
Audience of delusions: wonderful  
  
Jysella: so until then, prod the bound and gagged network execs  
  
Network execs: we're not gagged  
  
Jysella: well, if you want  
  
Network execs: no that's okay  
  
Audience of delusions: and review  
  
Jysella: wait, wait, wait! I haven't finished my piece. First, flyinghapsterofdoom if you're still confused about what happened to three and four read "every time", if you're still lost after that, e-mail me, I'll explain  
  
Audience of delusions: are you done yet?  
  
Jysella: still no- I'm switching off script form- secondly if any one gets the symbolism in this chapter you are either brilliant or spend too much time in English, either way if you can point all the symbolism (in an email, use my email address lest the fanfiction police track me down) you'll receive a prize, however be warned I'm an anime junkie so it will be anime related you get hints, aren't I kind, first think of numbers (like ages) as well as names (yes there is a reason I changed Kuki's name a bit) and flowers because, yes, they're important too. Finally there is one anime reference (cameo, whatever) in the chapter which you get a special prize for if you recognize it. But you won't like the prize unless you catch the reference so don't look for it. That's it  
  
Audience of delusions: done?  
  
Jysella: yup, ja-ne 


	3. broken patterns

Jysella: ahh smell the fresh chapter just waiting to be written  
  
Audience of delusions: we'll put the coroner on hold  
  
Jysella: I resent that! Nobody died last chapter  
  
Audience of delusions: so twice the number will die this one  
  
Jysella: well a) nobody died in Nameless yet and I'm five chapters in and 2) twice zero is still zero  
  
Audience of delusions: you used a) followed by 2)  
  
Jysella: shut up before I make you go the way of the network execs  
  
Audience of delusions: and just how will you do that  
  
Jysella: Never doubt the imagination of an author that owns none of her characters  
  
Audience of delusions: we'll sue  
  
Jysella: you can't, I worked in a disclaimer under your noses  
  
Audience of delusions: crafty devil  
  
Jysella: thanks much  
  
Broken patterns  
  
He was asleep when the phone rang, dragging him free of sleeps monstrous grip while releasing him to the talons of a more dangerous beast in one swift symphony of sound. Wearily he reached his hand, pushing past the warm bastion of his comforter, into the cold air of his room and clumsily moved it about his night table. A pair of darkly tinted, well worn, glasses tumbled towards the floor along side a digital clock bearing the time seven am, which broke upon impact with the wooden surface, before he found the object of his sleep-laden search, the phone, and dragged it deep within the caverns of his cover. In the semi-darkness he rubbed his eyes and fought a yawn before responding, dully, to the quiet party on the line.  
  
"Hello?" he asked uncertainly into the device responsible for his early awakening, his British accent accentuated in his near comatose state.  
  
"Hi Nigel" came the dripping reply from the other end, its high nasal quality oozing false syrup with a hint of cyanide "how was your night"  
  
"Pleasant Lizzie" the boy replied, bolting upright in his bed. Though his clock lay in pieces on the floor he knew it was too early for the girl to have called, far too early. And yet, the early call didn't surprise him, as Lizzie liked him to get up early and speak to her before he saw another living soul. It was her way of strengthening their relationship, like her constant need to know his location, and Numbuh one didn't question it. After all there was no problem with getting up early and telling ones girlfriend where they were. "How was your night?"  
  
"Good, hey Nigel?" she asked in a voice eking an additional ounce or so of sugar to go atop that previously applied.  
  
"Yes Lizzie?" Numbuh one responded tiredly, beginning to curl back under the covers.  
  
"What are you doing today?" the tone was innocent and so he replied, there was no fault in answering the simple request every so often, such as every hour of every day. No problem at all.  
  
"Well, work" he responded nonchalantly  
  
"At the tree house?"  
  
"Yes, unless we go on a mission"  
  
"And you'll call me if you do?" her voice reached an urgent level with the last words of her statement as though she didn't expect that he would, even though she always requested it.  
  
"Yes"  
  
"I'll call you in an hour, bye" she replied hanging up the phone. Numbuh one stared foreword into his room for a few moments before dropping the phone to the floor, to join an assortment of other electronics, before rolling back into his bed only to have the mission light go off followed by the computerized alarm and the sound of skidding feet in the hallway.  
  
Moments later three-year-old Amane burst into his room, sliding across the floor in her socks before jumping onto his bed. Knowing his role Numbuh one covered his face with the blankets and pretended to sleep.  
  
"Uncle Ichi" the breathless toddler said, a smile creeping into her voice. The bald agent grunted in response prompting a small giggle to erupt from the girl's mouth.  
  
"Uncle Ichi there's a mis-mis-misssion," she continued, stammering through giggles. Again the bald agent grunted, even rolling over and displacing the small girl. Undeterred she climbed back to her former position and shook the older boy.  
  
"Moshi said you had to wake up and come downstairs right now." As soon as she finished her final word the cavernous blankets opened up and swallowed her, tossing her small body into the air moments later. Her shrieked giggles drew an alarmed Moshi into the room who smiled, and caught her sister midair.  
  
"Come on Amane," she said, placing the girl on the floor "Uncle Ichi has to change for the mission," she took a look at the three year old standing on Numbuh ones floor and sighed "and so do you"  
  
"What do you mean Mo-Numbuh 43?" he asked, quizzically glancing at the new agent before turning away in pain at the familiar memories of his fallen teammate that swept up each time he did so.  
  
"She'll stay on the transport Numbuh one. You don't have to worry she'll be good. Right Amane?" the three year old nodded solemnly from her position on the floor. Since the conversation had begun she'd remained still, seemingly focused on a faraway spot on the bald agents wall rather than her older sisters conversation; an illusion broken with her nodding at the mention of her name.  
  
Numbuh one sighed and looked at the still girl "HQ won't like this" he sighed, recalling the fiasco that had occurred only a few years before with Moshi in Amane's place. "Alright, gather the others and meet me in the briefing room in five minutes"  
  
The bald agent winced as the excited toddler ran down the hall to Numbuh five's room and flung open the door, cringing as the dark haired girl screamed. Beside him Moshi sighed and calmly walked through the door.  
  
"Better call Lizzie," she said, almost sarcastically as she exited, casually closing the door behind her.  
  
"Yeah" Numbuh one responded to the air as he stared past her. Mechanically the boy dropped to his knees and collected his glasses and positioned them on his nose, choosing to ignore the fractured alarm clock lying next to them. Able to see clearly once more he crossed the room and removed a large red shirt from his chair. Cautiously he brought it too his nose and instantly regretted the action. He had begun to reach for another shirt when a high wail interrupted his robot-like preparations.  
  
"Uncle Ichi, help" panicked the bald agent threw on the red shirt of questionable cleanliness, re-buttoned the jeans he had slept in, and ran from his room.  
  
"Took you long enough" Numbuh five retorted as soon as the boy had exited the room. on the other side of the room, a very discontented Amane was sitting upon her sisters lap in a light pink jumper and silken pigtails.  
  
"You called for help?"  
  
"Moshi was brushing my hair" she responded grumpily, prompting the Asian agent to hand her a chocolate cookie stick.  
  
"Breakfast" was her murmured response before the computerized intelligence began to display the mission information.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Amane ran giggling down the isles of the airplane while Numbuh five exasperatedly attempted to keep up with her youthful energy, wondering how she had been conned into remaining with the girl. Although she understood why there was no need for stealth on this particular envoy and why the hopefully inherited distraction tactics of Moshi would be more useful, she still failed to comprehend the reason for her continued stay on the plane, with Amane.  
  
As Amane dashed past her, strangely light pigtails flying, she realized her involvement in watching the girl did not include chasing her about the large interior of the mosquito and so she sat down to continue her contemplations. Of course, she had gotten her run about an hour earlier in gathering preliminary intelligence. She winced as she moved her arm displacing a large bulk of bandage that had taken up residence. Unfortunately her surveillance had resulted in a sinister discovery. Ink bombs lying in wait beneath the soil to splatter upon contact. Of course she had known of the ink bombs and once past them casually missteped, and sprayed herself with shrapnel. Upon her bloody return Numbuh two created some mechanical surveillance and left her in charge of Amane. Which brought her full circle. Why. Why did she have to stay with Amane? The forever giggling, forever moving three year old that bore no resemblance to either of the girls she was related to- the girl she was related to. Kuki was dead, and Amane was still...wait-  
  
Numbuh five cocked her head to listen to the silence realizing something was wrong. Silence- where was Amane? She looked up and saw the blonde staring transfixed at a spot above her own head.  
  
"Amane? Wha-"she never got to finish the statement.  
  
"Hello little sister" a smooth voice called from the space behind her.  
  
"Cree" the word spilled from her lips like a curse, with a malice she had not wanted to unleash in the young Asians presence. "Amane, can you go color in the, umm, cargo hold?" Amane never questioned, having slipped into a serious state reserved, obviously, for moments when the 'grownups' were talking. Quietly she walked out of the general room, stopping only for the pretence of gathering pens and paper. In the back of her mind Numbuh five registered the cool ease with which she had been categorized as an adult, someone she needed to listen to, with apprehension. It was almost unnerving to have that type of power. But she ignored it in favor of the more important matter at hand. "Why are you here?"  
  
"Why little sister, I'm shocked. No hello" the voice oozed  
  
"Hello Cree. Why are you here" unconsciously she reached towards her weapon which wasn't there.  
  
"Looking for this, dearest Abigail?" she held a piece of 2 x 4 technology in the air, crushed beyond recognition "because I believe it's past its," she faltered for a moment before smiling "prime. I mean, what is it? twelve and a half- oh yes same as you"  
  
"Is that why you're here. To remind me of my age? To make fun of it being near 13? Or are you trying to offer me a job? Cuz Numbuh five thought you'd know that ain't happening"  
  
"Actually, I heard about your friends death."  
  
"Oh, so what is this? An, I told you so?"  
  
"No. No, I came to say I was sorry. Nothing related at all to my request that you leave the KND."  
  
"Don't give me that, Numbuh five knows what this is and she doesn't want to hear it again. Not now, spare me the ' it destroys your friends, family and future' speech 'cuz I'm just not in the mood right now"  
  
"no, it's not that again. I only came to apologize and leave. But you know little sister, it does destroy everything, Don't you understand? Everything."  
  
"No I don't"  
  
"Look if your friends hadn't been in the KND they wouldn't have done that to themselves"  
  
"Yes they would have, they were getting so involved in-"she cut off, choking back a sob.  
  
"How can't you see it? First it drove us apart-no. No, first it destroyed my life. I have no future Abby, this is my future!"  
  
"Don't be so melodramatic, so no college accepted you yet, so what. You'll get in for the summer semester"  
  
"Abby, I didn't apply. You know that, you remember the fights"  
  
"Yeah and then you moved to your friends"  
  
"What friends Abby? I have no friends"  
  
"What about, didn't Nikki move- "  
  
"Move where? Here? No! No she didn't, and before you ask I was staying at a shelter. Not with teammates. Didn't you ever wonder why none of my fellow teammates show up any more?"  
  
"Because we live in America and they live in France?"  
  
"Well then why they don't write?"  
  
"No-"  
  
"They're dead Abby. Henri on a mission, Jean and Monique in a freak accident. And Nicollet? Nikki slit her wrists. Dead. Every single last on of them. All of my friends. Do you understand the word, little sister? Dead? Because a few months ago you didn't"  
  
"I'm sorry Cree, I didn't know-"  
  
"No, of course not. By the time we moved you were already so tied up in your own team you couldn't see anything but it. You didn't notice when I had no friends standing with me at the airport that last day, you were too excited. 'To America? I'll be able to meet with my team. I've been talking with them for months' of course you were only eight and I was13 but you didn't see. And then when I begged you not to join you wouldn't listen and we fought, and stopped talking. It drove us apart"  
  
"So your friends couldn't take it and you think that because of that no one can?"  
  
"No Abigail, no team can take it. How decommissioned agents, aside from me, have you ever met? How many? Can count them on one hand? One finger?"  
  
"I'll show you a finger"  
  
"Shut up for a second little sister and listen to me. No team in history has survived in entirety to decommissioning. Bad things always start happening right around their twelfth birthdays. You might have asked 247 about it but, well, I still have a job. Think about what I said, little sister. Think about it."  
  
"About wa-"from somewhere below her, Amane wailed and Abby turned at the sound. When she redirected her head towards Cree, the girl was gone.  
  
"What's the matter Amane?" she asked, patronizingly.  
  
"Nothing, a spider. I didn't mean to interrupt. I'm sorry" somehow the advanced language coming from such a young mouth and still edged by a youthful lisp caused Numbuh five to laugh. Laugh in a way she hadn't laughed in a long while.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Squinting in the intense sunlight, Numbuh two aimed the rapidly built 2x4 technology at the perfectly green sea of grass that the immaculate delightful mansion looked over. Hidden beneath the lawn lay a danger that his device sought out. Sadly this danger was not of the carefree kind they'd faced as a team before. No, those days of innocent danger, the most of which was a painful spanking, were over. Beside him, where the sullen Japanese girl in purple walked, was another reminder of the death of his carefree days, days when missions had ended with Wally saving Kuki and proceeding to buy them all ice cream in relief. Those days were done.  
  
"Hey guys? If we all get through this how bout ice cream on me?" the round agent ventured out loud, it was the only speech, aside from mundane lefts or rights, that had transgressed in over an hour of tense tap-dancing around exploding cones.  
  
"Ice cream?" the youngest agent voiced in response, seemingly puzzled at his random out burst.  
  
"yes ice cream," he'd responded, smiling at her bewilderment.  
  
"why ice cream"  
  
"well-"the round agent had begun, only to be disrupted by his bald companion.  
  
"Because after he rescued Kuki from whatever insane trouble she'd walked obliviously head first into Wally would always buy us ice cream"  
  
the three fell silent at this recollection and continued their silent walk for a few moments before the Asian girl interjected again.  
  
"what kind of trouble"  
  
the two boys looked at one another and began speaking at once. A tangled mess of the late agents former mishaps were weaved imperfectly into one large knot.  
  
"Well there was this one time-"  
  
"Covered in feathers-"  
  
"Talking to the cat-"  
  
"Picking flowers-"  
  
"The whipped cream fell-"  
  
"and the rainbow monkeys landed on Wally"  
  
the Asian girl listened to this wealth of information suddenly understanding why her sister had never seemed hurt at the end of the day when Wally came home bruised, battered and swearing revenge on the most evil of all evils; the rainbow monkeys.  
  
"so the rainbow Monkey's fell on Wally?" she asked, raising a critical eye brow. Both boys nodded. "I'd always wondered why he hated those things." At this the three of them laughed in remembrance of their friends, forgetting for one brief moment the danger they faced, the pain they had felt, and the task facing them. For one brief moment they were happy. One brief moment ended all to soon by the ringing of a certain phone.  
  
Suddenly Numbuh one's face contorted as he lifted the device to his ear and flicked it on.  
  
"Hello?" he called uncertainly into the phone, knowing full well who it was.  
  
"You didn't call," replied syrupy ooze, filtering through the mouthpiece of the phone.  
  
Nigel looked briefly at his watch "I was just about to, it's only now been an hour"  
  
"But Nigel, "the voice responded, dripping it's sticky poison down his shirt "you promised you'd call if you had a mission"  
  
The boy's eyes narrowed prompting his teammates to hurriedly question, in silent whispers, who had called. Nigel shook his head and took a step towards the right. "How did you know we left?"  
  
"I called the tree house half an hour ago" the voice prompted, near crying "I knew you wouldn't, I knew you didn't love me." The poisons dripped ever further down the British boy's lanky frame forcing him to continue moving to avoid permanent capture.  
  
"Why are you calling me so much?" he screamed in annoyance, turning his back to the remainder of his team, sparing them his face. The syrupy substance froze, hardening into crystallized pain.  
  
"Because you hate me, because every time I turn around your talking to that weird Abigail because you never loved me"  
  
"But that's-I never-Lizie I- Lizie" he continued to plead with the voice on the other end of the phone punctuating each sentence end with a further step from his team. "No don't hung up, Lizie you need to believe me I got distracted -the delightful children- no I can not quit the KND for you- yes I do love you!" his voice continued to grow louder with each step, preventing him from hearing a faint beep below his movements.  
  
"No you don't, you never did. Nigel Uno I am not talking to you anymore!" the sugary syrup enveloping the small boy receded, leaving him open entirely to the circling bees; bees that silenced as soon as she ceased talking.  
  
"Lizie, don't do this" he sobbed. His back turned, he missed the explosion of the ground a full pace behind him, and the sweeping arcs of dirt flung to the sun, the light blinding even his teammates half a mile behind. Ears full of his own pity he didn't hear the earth shattering event, or the shrapnel whizzing through space. Legs already wobbling he didn't feel the earth drop beneath him. Mind dulled he didn't feel pain when the rock collided with his skull, nor did he panic when his vision faded.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Lizie lie on her stomach, perched atop her cream colored crag of a bed, kicking her legs aimlessly in the perpetual stream of central cooling that filled her house. Above her, carefully placed as rain clouds on the graying sky, lay pictures of her beloved prey, innocently blocking pictures with a large hand or smiling stuffy grins to abate his predating mistress. She smiled and listened playfully on the phone while her nails.  
  
"Nigel Uno I'm not talking to you anymore" she said, shrill voice delighting in the pained moan it elicited. Her voice, reverberating around the shrine of Nigel's prepubescent pain, was filled with tears; raw with pain while the face it belonged to smiled smugly beneath a mask of concealer and moisturizer.  
  
She fell silent, content to listen to Nigel plead, and continued to dry her nails with sweetly falsified breath.  
  
The smile swiftly faded from her mouth as opened agape in horror and she dropped the phone, clutching her ear in pain. The explosion the Nigel seemed deaf to, all those away, reverberated in her ear, filling the small room and dropping carefully strewn pictures from the wall.  
  
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~  
  
Jysella: woo, sorry that took so long guys  
  
Audience of delusions: yeah, like you actually still have reviewers  
  
Jysella: shut up. Any way the limited Japanese I used, namely Ichi, means one  
  
Audience of delusions: wow, you're so smart Jysa  
  
Jysella: you are such jerks; I'm keeping the pixie stix and Pocky for myself  
  
Audience of delusions: weirdo  
  
Jysella: whatever, anyway that's it no flames, review, I have homework to do 


End file.
